Nights in New Orleans
by aband0nd3d pr0f1l3
Summary: On the night of an important hit, Lovino runs into a mysterious Spaniard. Who is this man, and why does he keep finding him everywhere? Rating will change as chapters go on. Can't really think of a good summary.
1. Chapter 1

**It seems I lied about my Hetalia hiatus. *poker face* Hell, who was I kidding anyway? I could never do that. But I digress; so hey, if any of you guys who read this happen to live in New Orleans, I would love it if you could point out any inconsistencies I haven't already caught in this story. I want this to be accurate!**

**I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters therein.**

_Late 19th century America_

Speaking my mind has never been something I've had an issue with. I've always been the first person to tell you if your clothes look like shit, or if I hate you. I've never faltered in my decisions, which is probably what makes me so good at my job. And then I met _him__…_

He ruined everything, and yet he completed everything. He tore my heart to pieces, and yet he sewed it together. He was my darkness, my light, my salvation, my damnation. And I watched helpless as he turned my life upside-down and ran circles around my head.

0o0

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo didn't seem like the person who would be in my line of work. That is, he didn't seem like someone who could blow a guy away with a shotgun without so much as batting an eye.

He didn't seem like a mafioso.

The first time I'd met him was the night of a particularly important job: a hit. Not a minor hit, either; we were fucking with the big dogs here, and we had to be fucking careful. Our target was some important Irish police superintendent or some shit like that. But I knew it was important, and I felt lucky I was even considered to help on the job.

It was a cold October evening and the dark clouds swirled ominously overhead, promising buckets of rain. We had guys everywhere to keep track of this guy; if he so much as spit on the sidewalk we would know where and when. This was one of my first parts in any major mafia operation. I was only 17, and excitement thrilled through me as I hung around near Girod street as instructed, knowing the Irish bastard would be coming down this way. I would wait all evening if I had to, not wanting to screw up my -albeit small- part in the hit.

I'm not the superstitious type; that's my younger brother. But I was alone in the French Quarter, and it did have a particularly bloody history. It was supposedly haunted by the ghost of Jean Lafitte, a notorious French pirate. It wasn't pirate ghosts I was scared of though; he was French, so he couldn't have been all that bad. It was the recently dead Marie Laveau. She was a voodoo priestess, a thing very real in the city of New Orleans. I remembered when she was alive; it wasn't long after I came off the boat here before she died, but she wasn't someone you just forgot. No, my singular meeting with her had been disconcerting.

Alright, I was fucking terrified.

I had gotten lost, and found myself in the French Quarter. I kept trying to ask people where I might find the Second Municipality, but they all ignored me. Apparently we Italians are the shit stains of America. I accidentally bumped against her, and her arm shot out like a python. For a brittle looking woman she had a vice-like grip. She stared hard at me with her milky eyes, and I felt suddenly ashamed, as if she could see into my very soul at every terrible thing I'd ever done. She leaned close to me, her withered lips almost touching my ear. I shuddered. "Beware men who bathe in the Bay of Biscay," she whispered. Then she let go of my wrist, and she hobbled away as if nothing had happened. I had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

So that's where I was, in the haunted-ass French Quarter on a dark and ominous night, waiting for some dude to show up so I could kill him. Well…not me, directly. But I would help.

Sort of.

I shivered as a few pelts of rain hit my skin, and just then I heard whistling. It was soft, and almost eerie. My heart leapt to my throat and I slowly turned my head towards it. I forced myself to relax; it was him. The Irish bastard who had dared snub my _onorata__societa_ and affiliate himself with another. I stepped from the shadows and stared hard at him. I know he saw me, but big fucking deal. I whistled once, loudly, and started walking up the street; my part in the hit over.

I shivered again when I heard the gunfire behind me a few minutes later. No, I didn't feel bad for signaling my guys. I didn't have any remorse for aiding _la__mafia._It was a chill October evening, and _fuck_ the combination of rain and wind was not helping at all. I hadn't brought a jacket, and my thin button-down shirt was not keeping me dry from the rain slowly increasing in frequency.

Pat pat pat

Pat pat pat pat

__—

"Cazzo!" I cursed, starting to run down the street. I heard a few more shots distantly behind me. I didn't worry. Just as I had thought earlier, it wasn't so much raining as pouring a steady waterfall of water over my head. Thunder broke and lightning cracked, flicking dangerously across the sky and I screamed, falling to the ground in the middle of the street. _Stupid!__Get__your__ass__up!_I screamed at myself, but no use. I was frozen, petrified by the malevolent weather surrounding me. The violently whipping wind seemed to steal the breath from my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut and grit my teeth together. _I__'__m__going__to__die,__I__'__m__going__to__fucking__die__here__…_

Something grabbed me and I screamed again. It was a person—

Oh fuck! You're in the French Quarter, you idiota! It's a seedy place at night and you're alone! _You__'__re__alone,__alone_, I thought dizzily, wrenching away from my assailant's grip. _Always__alone__…_

"Get the fuck away from me!" I screeched.

"I'm trying to help you, niño!" A man whose face I couldn't see said urgently. He was yelling over the roar of the storm. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and before I cringed I saw his face, for just a second. An afterimage of his fiery green eyes was burned into the back of my skull. "Mierda…" I somehow heard him mutter. I was on the ground and he lifted me up into his arms. I didn't struggle against him; I just decided to let this man take me wherever he planned to, not caring as to what his plans for me were. I think my compliance had something to do with those green eyes. "You're all alone, aren't you?"

Another whip of lightning cracked across the sky and I whimpered, burying my face into the man's chest.

_You're all alone, all alone…_

0o0

When I woke up, I took notice of my changed surroundings. No longer was the roar of the storm pounding in my ears. My eyes were still closed, and I was warm and dry. Not exactly warm…there was a slight chill in the room, wherever I was. There was a thin blanket covering me, and, I noticed, I wasn't wearing anything. I could no longer feign sleep; my eyes shot open and I sat up quickly, glancing around the small room frantically. I reached for the knife in my boot, then remembered that I was naked. My weapon was missing.

"Whoa whoa, amigo! I'm not going to hurt you." I looked sharply up at the voice that had spoken; it had to have been the man who picked me up off the street. His green eyes were the only things I recognized. I relaxed a little, but was still pretty tense. The man had his hands up as if in surrender, and he eyed me cautiously. "Are you going to relax?" He was tall and lanky, but he did have some sort of build to him. I didn't doubt he could knock me out with a roundhouse if he really wanted to. On a more vain level, he had sun-kissed tan skin and wavy chestnut hair tied back in a short ponytail, and as I've already noted, his green eyes. Holy fuck, they were amazing. After accessing that this man was no threat to me, I slowly nodded. "Alright. I'm just going to sit down right here, si?" He pointed over to a wooden chair in front of the decrepit stone fireplace dominating the room and slowly walked over to it, sitting down.

We sat like that in silence for awhile, eyeing each other apprehensively, waiting for the other to make the next move.

"My clothes," I said finally, narrowing my eyes at him. "Where are they?"

He seemed to zone back in from a place in his head when he heard my voice. "Oh? Your clothes." He gestured towards the mantle of the fireplace. Calling it a mantle was too grandeur, actually. It was more like a termite-ridden wooden board nailed into the wall to serve the purpose of a mantle. I stared at it with disdain when I noticed my shirt and pants hanging from it. My boots were by the door. "After I pulled you in from the storm we were both soaked. I changed my clothes." At that moment he flopped his bangs out of his eyes; his hair was still mostly wet, so I figured I hadn't been out for too long. "And well, I couldn't just leave you in wet clothes." He shrugged. "Especially not knowing your condition. Why were you out in the French Quarter at night anyway, niño? I haven't been here long and even I know that's not safe."

As he spoke I became more and more aware of his accent. A Spaniard. "I have a fucking name you know, bastard." Though I still didn't like the situation I'd gotten myself into, I felt more comfortable knowing I was with someone of European background. Natives of America never did treat me too kindly since I'm Italian. You'd think I'd committed a crime or some shit! Though I suppose…I had. Committed quite a few, actually. But I was still a human being, dammit!

The Spaniard's green eyes glowed amusedly. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "Oh? How rude of me. Me nombre es Antonio. What is your name, mi tomate?"

My face flushed red. "D-Don't go giving me pet names, you bastard! My name is Lovino! Remember it!" I spat. This guy didn't make any fucking sense. The more I hurled insults at him the more he smiled!

"Ah, ok then Lovino. I'll let you get dressed then. Your clothes should be dry now." He smiled again and stood, walking over to the door. I expected him to leave, but instead he just turned around in front of the door. I stared at him.

"Aren't you going to leave?" I said bluntly.

"Lo siento. Don't take offense to this Lovi, but you seem like a pretty jumpy person, and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt by having you attack me with the knife in your right boot." My heart stopped. "Or the small pistol inside your left boot." Who _was_ this guy? Fuck, I was dead. I was so dead and my brother didn't even know where I was. He turned to me and smiled that infuriating smile again. Antonio. "So I'm going to stay right here, and then you're going to tell me why you were in the French Quarter last night, ok?"

**Antonio's just a perv. XD no, just kidding! …maybe. So updates for this story will be really slow probably. Not because I don't love it, but because of other multi-chapters that I've started before this one. Unfortunately, they take higher prevalence. Wait though, wait!**

**Reviews? Do I deserve those from you?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm addicted! I'm addicted to writing this story! It's ridiculous, really. It shouldn't be healthy…so yeah, here's another chapter sooner than I had expected. Ugh, I feel guilty. XD**

**I don't own Hetalia, but if Himapapa would make Spamano canon then that would make my life.**

Antonio folded his hands in his lap. "Hm. I see. You are Italian, then?"

I had unwillingly divulged what I knew to him as I had gotten dressed. My clothes now smelled slightly of charcoal. "Yeah. So?" Did this guy hate Italians too? It would be unlikely, I think, since he went to all this trouble to help me.

He was silent for a few seconds. "How did you get involved with _la__cosa__nostra_?" he finally asked.

Antonio confused me. He didn't seem bothered at all that I was a mafioso, and he'd let me keep my weapons, even though he had known I'd had them all along…it was as though he thought I was harmless! I narrowed my eyes. "I came here with my brother by boat from Italy. We were told that we were going to New York, free of charge. They told us New Orleans was only a few hours away. Tch." I smiled bitterly. "I should have taken a better look at American geography, huh? Then maybe we wouldn't be in this hellhole." I had been a stupid, ignorant child to think that Americans were honest. They all thought that because we didn't have the same accent as them that we were uneducated. The ones I met, that is. My luck has never been the best. "We showed up and we were taken in by this gang here. The Matranga's." I paused. Should I tell him that I was a Vargas? That the only reason Feliciano and I were taken in so easily was because we came from a prestigious mafia family back in the Old Country? I wondered if he even knew the significance. "I didn't know they had them here like in Italy."

Antonio nodded grimly. "Sounds similar to what happened to me. I, too, wished to go to New York." He sighed. "Though I suppose this place isn't so bad either." He paused and his green eyes slid to focus on me. I shivered inwardly. "You keep saying 'we'. Where is your hermano?"

I looked away from him. "Feliciano…he should be at home. I told him to stay home until I got there." And I had a sudden thought: why was I telling this guy all this stuff about me? I'd only just met him. Fuck, what if he was in a rival gang? Fuck fuck_fuck_ I really screwed up this time…

I stood suddenly, and Antonio stood with me. I glared at him challengingly. "Alright bastard, I told you what I was doing in the French Quarter and more than you really needed to know. My little brother is worried about me and I need to see if he's alright, so can I go?"

Antonio smirked, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground for a second. "You killed that Irish police officer?"

I stepped forward, and he stepped back towards the door. "Not…directly. I signaled for the guys who were supposed to kill him though. And of course I haven't heard if our job was done correctly because of your stupid ass!" I took another step forward, and he took another step back. I couldn't help but wonder why I kept telling him things. Damn mouth.

Antonio chuckled. "If it wasn't for my stupid ass, you would still be out in the French Quarter. And who knows what would have happened to you?" He took a predatory step forward and I took an uncertain step backwards. "A lot goes on in the French Quarter at night. Someone with quite worse intentions than I could have found you, Lovi." He had a feral glint in his green eyes and I took another step backwards, towards the wall. He took another step forward and he was almost on top of me. I had hit the wall; there was nowhere else for me to go. "You could have been taken." He traced a finger down my cheek and I closed my eyes, jaw ridged. "Sold into prostitution. A pretty boy like you? You wouldn't last long there alone…"

"Shut up…" I whispered.

He chuckled again, though this time it was darker. I felt his breath against my ear. "Tell me Lovino…how old are you?"

"Seventeen," I answered automatically. As if some sort of spell was broken, my eyes shot open and I shoved him away from me, in one quick motion pulling my knife out from my boot. The one he had known I'd had. "Now let me fucking leave."

0o0

We were in the Spanish Quarter, and it was late morning. I say 'we' because the Spanish bastard had decided to tag along and walk me home. What a fucking gentleman.

"I don't want you here, you know," I growled, shooting him an irritated look.

He was smiling that stupid grin of his. I hated it. "I think you do, Lovi. Deep in your heart, you crave company."

"Not yours, bastardo! And don't call me Lovi; show some respect!"

He laughed easily and threw an arm around my shoulder. "Respect? To a niño like you? Just seventeen~" he cooed.

I knocked his arm away. "Tch. I could have you killed you know. Just a word, bastard. That's all it would take."

He chuckled to himself, as if the thought of death amused him. "I highly doubt that, mi tomate."

When I turned to face him sharply he was grinning widely again, his enchanting green eyes sparkling like the ocean on a calm breezy day. He winked; my face turned red against my volition. "Again with the fucking pet names! Dammit bastard, you've signed your death warrant. I hope you're happy." I turned away from him and kept walking down the cobbled street. Unfortunately for me, he followed.

"If it is death by your hands, then I am happy," he sighed. "And call me Antonio, Lovi. We know each other better than to degrade each other with vile language, si?"

I growled at the use of his nickname for me. It seemed I would never get him to stop using it, no matter how many times I threatened him. He did remember I was in _la__mafia_, didn't he? "Hardly, idiota. I don't even know how old you are," I grumbled. We were nearing the Second Municipality.

"Twenty-six."

I turned to face him. "What?"

"You said you didn't know how old I was. I'm twenty-six." He had his arms behind his head, staring at the sky. I don't know why, but I had somehow thought he was…younger. Not that I had spent a lot of time wondering how old this guy was. I hadn't even known him more than a day.

I stopped walking, and he stopped as well, turning to face me quizzically. I pointed back where we had come. "Go. This game has been fun, but it's over. Go home."

He seemed confused. "But Lovino, we haven't reached your home yet."

I sighed, rolling my honey-colored eyes. "Idiota. Do you really think I'd let you see where I live? Here is far enough." I turned my back on him. "Go back to your dirty hovel."

He was silent for awhile, and I thought he had left. I sighed with relief and started walking again.

"You do know I could just follow you home from a distance, si?" I stopped again, grating my teeth. That absolute bastard. "Wouldn't you rather know where I am?"

I turned to face him. That grin in place, as always. I narrowed my eyes venomously, wanting to yell, scream, curse at him. I sighed instead, turned around, and kept walking. He took that as a resigned 'ok' and followed. I said nothing.

The Second Municipality was a rather nice part of town. A lot of WASPs lived there. WASP meaning White Anglo-Saxon Protestants. Native-born American aristocracy. They didn't take too kindly to the fact that Feliciano and I were living in their nice neighborhood, what with our Italian accents and our 'pagan' Catholic ways. Seriously, they think we're pagan. Don't they remember that Catholicism was first? Stupid Americans.

Anyway, the only reason we lived in such a nice part of New Orleans and not a shady place like the French Quarter or worse, the Third Municipality, was because our mob boss pulled some strings and set us up in a nice spot. He didn't really care about us; it was the name. Vargas. He feared our Grandfather. Oceans away in Italy and this man feared our grandfather, or respected him, or owed him a favor, whatever. I never forgot that that was what got us things. Our name was what kept Feliciano and me alive.

Antonio whistled when he saw our house. It wasn't nearly as grandeur as the rest of the places around, but I didn't care. He didn't seem to either; it was definitely a few steps up from his hole-in-the-ground in the Spanish Quarter. "You live in a nice place for only just coming here a few months ago, amigo." Antonio turned to look at me curiously. "Who are you?"

I thought it was funny that he would say that, echoing my thoughts only a half an hour earlier. I gave him a smirk instead. "Since we're never going to see each other again, I doubt that's of any importance."

"Oh fratello! I was so worried; I thought something terrible had happened!" Feliciano burst out of the house and ran towards me, hugging me tightly. There were tear tracks staining his cheeks and I felt my heart break just the smallest bit. Damn this Spanish bastard for holding me up and causing my brother more grief than was needed. His overreacting, stupid self probably thought I was dead or something. Considering my job though, I can imagine why.

I hesitantly put a hand on his back. We were brothers, and he'd shown these…displays of affection…since we were little, but I never got used to them. I might me Italian, but I am not a touchy feely guy.

I rubbed his back soothingly while I waited for him to calm down, all the while glaring daggers at Antonio, who still hadn't left. A few WASPs across the street were staring at us. I glared at them too.

When he finally calmed down and let go of me, the first thing he noticed was Antonio. His face brightened. "Ooh, I feel rude! Ve~ did you bring Lovino home~?" Before the bastard could even open his mouth, Feliciano had thrown his arms around him. "Grazie grazie grazie!"

He kissed both of his cheeks and irrational anger flared within me. Antonio just laughed and nudged him away softly. Feli pulled away and there was a happy smile on his face, just like always. "Si, I suppose." Antonio was still smiling, but his cheeks were tinted an embarrassed pink. I narrowed my eyes at those pink cheeks and let out a huff. Looks like another jackass was going to fall for Feli's charms. I almost felt something like sadness though; I had thought…that maybe for _once_…someone would like me more than him. Even if it was a guy I hated and was never going to see again…who was I really kidding, though?

"Well thank you!" Feliciano beamed. "I'm Feliciano Veneziano Vargas." He stuck his hand out. "Lovino's brother. Pleased to meet you! Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm making pasta!"

Antonio's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he grinned, turning his gaze back to me. My heart stopped. "I would love to, Feliciano. As long as it is alright with your brother…?" I didn't like the knowing look in his green eyes. He knew. And he knew that I knew he knew. But how?

"No," I said abruptly.

"But fratello—"

"No, Feli. We can't have guests tonight. I have business to take care of."

Feliciano's face fell. He knew what I meant when I said that. He smiled at Antonio apologetically. "Oh. Mi dispiace. Perhaps another time, then?"

Antonio smiled. "Si, that sounds great. What do you think, Lovi?" Once again he turned that infuriating smile to me.

"I think I would love nothing more than to never see your face again."

"Fratello—!"

"Go in the damn house, Feliciano!" I seethed. My brother flinched, stared at me for a few seconds. Then he muttered an apology to Antonio and sauntered into the house.

"That wasn't necessary, Lovi."

When I turned to look at Antonio, he had a somber look on his face. Good, I thought. No more of his annoying smiles.

"I don't want to see you ever again."

Antonio sighed, and a small smile played on his lips. "Is that an order direct from a Vargas?"

My breath caught. He knew. I knew he knew, but I had been hoping I was wrong. Once again, my bad luck managed to fuck things up again. My eyes narrowed. "Yes. If that's what it takes to keep you away from me and my brother."

Antonio just stared at me with that smug, knowing smile. Then he turned and walked away. "I'll try, Lovino Vargas, but I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

**Lalala~ ok, this time I'm serious. Life and Times updates first, alright? Updates will be slower, I swear! I need some sort of discipline…if I can't listen to myself, how can I possibly function in normal society? But I digress…so I find myself curious, dear readers. What are your head-canons? I want to know. Who knows? I might like one and decide to include it in one of my stories. Perhaps even this one.**

**So review your comments and head-canons to me? Grazie~**

**Oh, and I never put translations for last chapter. I'll just combine them with this chapter's translations:  
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**onorata societa – Honored Society (Italian moniker for the mafia)**

**la mafia – the mafia (obvious Italian)**

**cazzo – fuck (Italian)**

**niño – kid (Spanish)**

**mierda – shit (Spanish)**

**Me nombre es – My name is (Spanish)**

**Chapter two:**

**La cosa nostra – Our Thing (Italian moniker for the mafia)**

**Hermano – brother (Spanish)**

**Fratello – brother (Italian)**

**Grazie – thank you (Italian)**

**Mi dispiace – I'm sorry (Italian)**

**I only translated things that I didn't think weren't obvious from context. And a few that I thought were obvious, but not all.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Fuck self-set rules. I'm writing this damn story and there's nothing I can do about it. So yes, here we are my lovelies. Another wondrous chapter and a belated Happy Thanksgiving to you all. And damn wasn't _Paint__It__White!_ a great Thanksgiving present? I cried, manly, manly tears of joy when I saw that the dub was out.**

**Same deal here? I don't own Hetalia.**

"Alright dago, you're going to tell us what you know," the officer said calmly across the table from me. Another was pacing behind him, occasionally glancing at me murderously and muttering bigotry. I kept my mouth shut though, unlike usual when I would be insulting him right back, because I really didn't want to die. I was seriously scared for my life. The cuffs confining my arms behind my back were chaffing my wrists, rubbing them raw.

How the hell did this happen?

Apparently only hours after my guys took out that Irish police superintendent, the city went insane. The guy was popular, and his last dying word, 'Dagos', turned the blame to the Italians. The mayor had ordered the arrest of every Italian male between the ages of twelve and fifty-five. Now the police department was questioning each of us in turn, 'roughing us up' a bit if they had to. 'Roughing us up' apparently translated to the department, the majority Irish, as beating the shit out of us for answers. I prayed that my brother was alright.

"I told you already, I don't know anything!" A blatant lie. But if I told the truth, I would surely be killed. With lying I had the slim opportunity to live. I'd already heard of the massacres of innocent Italians in the streets by outraged mobs of citizens, the government of our city doing nothing to stop it, even commending it as a necessity. I glared with all the hate I could muster at this officer. All Americans were evil.

The officer pacing snorted laughter, slamming his hands onto the table. The other officer didn't even flinch; I jumped, inwardly cursing my skittishness. "Please! All of you Sicilians are the same! Even if you didn't do it, you're still guilty!"

At this statement rage broiled within me, and I couldn't help it overflow. "And how the fuck is that? What ever happened to fair trial by a jury of ones peers, huh?" The cop looked confused, outraged. I smirked, my anger only just getting started. "Not just a stupid dago, am I? I know my rights, just like every other motherfucking American in this godforsaken country!"

The officer paled drastically, and the air in the room changed. The sudden silence deafened me, crashing against my eardrums like silent cymbals. The officer got right up in my face. If my arms hadn't been cuffed behind my back, I would have punched him. "_You_ are not American," he hissed, triumph on his fat, mustached face.

"I am no different from you." I spit in his eye and he cried out in murderous rage and anguish. He lunged over the table at me and the other cop held him back.

"Get ahold of yourself, McCreedy!" he shouted with some effort at holding the other back. "I have a feeling this one knows something!"

I was trapped in a chair with my arms tied behind my back (literally), and I was the one with the triumphant, shit-eating grin.

How the hell did this happen?

_I slammed the door shut and glared at Feliciano, who was in the kitchen making pasta. "You just had to go and open your stupid mouth, didn't you?"_

_Feli turned and frowned thoughtfully at me. "What? What are you talking about, fratello?"_

_I gritted my teeth and my fists shook from the effort of resisting the urge to slap my brother. "Back there! With the Spaniard!" I spat, jabbing my finger at the front door. A part of me thought that I was mad not that Feliciano had told Antonio our name, but that Antonio had seemed more interested in him than me. I shoved the thought away._

_Feliciano only looked more confused. "I-I was only being hospitable, Lovino. He brought you home and—"_

"_You just going to fucking tell everyone our name, Feli? I didn't know that guy, you know that don't you? He could have been from the Provenzanos!" My brother paled at the mention of the rival gang. "Do you have any fucking idea of what you've just done?"_

_Just as Feliciano opened his mouth to respond, to plead forgiveness and say he was sorry, the door burst open and cops swarmed the place. One tackled Feli and he screamed. I ran over to get the asshole off of him, and I was forcibly grabbed and shoved against the wall. My hands were cuffed behind my back and I watched helplessly as the same was done to my brother. The rest of the officers had guns trained on us. Like we were wild fucking animals or something._

We had been taken away and now we were here. As soon as we got to the station, my brother and I had been separated. I prayed for his safety.

The fat, mustached cop had calmed down and went back to glaring murderously at me. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face, going back to pacing and muttering curses. The other cop sighed and sat back down across from me, a serious look on his face. "Alright then, Mr.…?" I didn't fill in his sentence and he frowned. "Listen, we can't help you if you don't cooperate. Won't you cooperate?"

I rolled my eyes. "Che. I didn't need any help or need for 'cooperation' before you potato bastards bothered me and my brother."

The pacing cop twitched at my insult, but didn't say anything. The sitting one frowned further. "Well, that's alright then." He turned to the pacing cop. "McCreedy, get this dago's identification, would you? It should be somewhere in the file room." McCreedy glowered and left the room. The other cop turned back to me and folded his hands across the table. "Ok listen, kid, some not-so-nice things are going on because of your people, you understand that?" I commended him in his efforts to be nice to me. But I still hated his Irish guts.

"You have no proof," I growled, narrowing my eyes, trying to look as menacing as I could.

The cop raised a bushy orange brow. "Son…who ever said we needed any?"

My eyes widened in rage and disbelief; I opened my mouth to scream at this man. Who was he to judge my people, the Italians? Who the fuck was he to say his shit didn't stink? A first generation American from parents who had suffered immigration as I was? Growing up that way, shouldn't he have some fucking empathy? The other cop, McCreedy, came back in and his shit-eating grin stole my words.

"We sure did catch ourselves a great white today, Morris," he said, handing a thin file to the other cop, Morris. All he had to do was look at the tab that showed my name. He glanced back up at me gravely and stood from his chair.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

The two started muttering to each other and I strained to hear them. I was angry. They were talking about me like some sort of prized animal they had caught while hunting! It was…degrading. Then again, America was degrading. Land of the Free, equal opportunity for all? Yeah, and I was Queen Joanna the Mad of Spain.

"Fetch quite the price…"

"…don't know who you're dealing with…"

"Provenzanos…"

My olive skin paled.

Son of a fucking _bitch._

These were dirty cops, getting money on the side by helping out the mafia! And wouldn't it be my luck that they were with the Provenzanos…goodbye, Feli. Though by the end of this massacre it probably won't be a long goodbye. I started muttering a quick prayer. "Ave o Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore è con te. Tu sei benedetta fra le donne e benedetto…"

The fat one, McCreedy, heard me and whirled in my direction, as if offended by my words. Like he could even understand them. "Hey you! Stop with that pagan shite!" I ignored him and kept praying. "Why you—"

"McCreedy, stop it!" the other, Morris, hissed. "I doubt the Provenzanos would want damaged goods."

McCreedy growled. "Fine. I'll just go call them then." I heard him stomp away and the door slammed. I was left in the strained silence of the other cop.

It was awhile before anyone came back; I had my eyes closed and my head resting on the table. I'm pretty sure the cop across from me had started to doze off too when the door finally opened again.

"So sorry for the delay—"

"No, it is ok. We expected we might hear from someone about them after the…unfortunate passing of the Chief." 

Oh no. And I thought my day couldn't get any worse.

"He's over here."

I picked my head up off the table enough to see Antonio. He was wearing a long overcoat and dark glasses that hid his face, but I knew it was him. If his accent didn't give him away, it was the smirk on his face when he saw me. "Ah yes, this is him. The Provenzanos thank you for delivering him to us. Now if you would be so kind as to hand him over…"

McCreedy grabbed me roughly and forced me to my feet. "On your feet, bloody dago- meaning no disrespect to you and yours, Mr. Carriedo." I scoffed at the way this man was kissing up to the Spanish bastard. It made me sick.

Antonio just smiled, taking my arm and starting to lead me out the door. "It is no problem, officer. Though I do wonder…" He glanced at me hungrily and I stared back at him, desperately silently praying. He wouldn't expose my brother, would he? Please, please, don't.

"Per favore…" I whispered, hating to have to plead with this man. This hateful man who would lead me to my death, but had the power to save my brother.

Antonio's smirk grew, as if my pleads meant nothing to him. And why should they? I was just a kid he had met the night before. His green eyes looked steely and serpentine, nothing like the cheery light they were filled with earlier. Was this even the same man, I thought? Could I have been mistaken? "…doesn't he have a brother?"

My heart sank.

Morris shot a look at McCreedy that said, 'how-could-you-be-so-stupid?'. "Of course he has a brother, Mr. Carriedo. He has been detained elsewhere."

Antonio stared blankly at the officers. "…Then get him for me. I don't have time for this, gentlemen. The Provenzanos don't have time for this, given our current political climate." He said it so smoothly, and yet with such an underlying message of violence that they scrambled.

"A-Actually Mr. Carriedo, I believe he is—" 

"I don't care where he is currently. I want him _here_and I want it done _five__minutes__ago_."

Feliciano was a few minutes later shoved into the room relatively unscathed. I breathed a small sigh of relief. "This one looks just like the other one."

Antonio took Feliciano by his other arm. "Thank you for that very astute observation, officer. Buenos noches to you both." Antonio led us out of the room and the station. As soon as we were outside he started muttering to us frantically. Feliciano had been whimpering like a kicked puppy the whole time, so I just figured he was trying to sooth him. "Don't worry, I'm going to take you to a friend's until all of this blows over. Shh, I can't really explain right now, just please trust me…" The scary Antonio I had seen in the police station seemed to have melted away, almost as if the Spanish bastard had shed that personality like an old snake skin. Once again I found myself wondering who he really was.

Antonio led us to a sleek black coach, hurrying us inside. He lifted Feli inside and turned to face me. I couldn't read his expression, but the next second I knew he was carrying me, lifting me into the coach after him and into his lap. He shut the door and we took off immediately.

"You bastard! You motherfucking bastard!" I screamed. If my hands weren't still tied behind my back I don't know what I would have done.

"Lovi, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, holding me tight to him. Without the use of my hands, I couldn't push him away. "Are you going to relax?" He tilted my chin up towards his face. The cheery light was back in his eyes, but they were still dark with worry. He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my face go hot.

"You wouldn't happen to have the keys to these cuffs, would you?" I glared up at him and he seemed almost relieved.

"I do." He set me in the empty spot to his left and started rummaging through his pockets.

"A-Antonio…" Feliciano whimpered. "Those men thought you were with the Provenzanos…"

"A lot of people think I'm with the Provenzanos." Antonio pulled a small key out of his pocket and uncuffed my brother. He rubbed at his wrists, red marking where he was once bound.

"Who the fuck are you exactly?" I rubbed at my own raw wrists and Antonio pocketed the key again. "Who are you with?"

"We don't have time to talk about me," he said impatiently. We heard screams outside of the coach and Feliciano flinched. "As I'm sure you know, the city has become quite upset at the death of Chief Hennesy. There have been lynching's of Italians all over New Orleans, and those that haven't been massacred have been arrested or have fled." I heard gun shots and more screams, a woman this time. My mouth was set in a grim line. "I didn't know if I'd be able to find you…but thankfully I arrived just in time."

"Why did you save us?" I was honestly confused. I had only met the guy the night before, and he'd already saved my life twice in less than 24 hours. But why?

Antonio stared thoughtfully at me, as if he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. I leered back. "I guess…I'm just a nice guy with an ear for what goes on around the city." He grinned. "But in all seriousness, right now isn't the best time to be Italian. So I'm hiding you two. Those cops are going to figure out eventually that you two weren't delivered to the Provenzanos, so they're going to be looking for you. To make that harder for them, I'm splitting you up."

"No!"

"Bastard, I'm going with my brother!"

"Think, Lovino!" Antonio was speaking harshly, and I shut up. No one really yelled at me ever besides my Nonno. "It will be easier for them to find you if you are together. I would never put you or your brother in harms way, please trust me. Your brother will be safe, and I will keep an eye on both of you."

The coach stopped. "Where are you taking him? I at least want to know where he is." I didn't like this, but it seemed to be the only way. If only to keep my brother safe, I thought.

Antonio leaned over Feliciano and opened his coach door. "He is staying with a few friends of mine, Gilbert and his brother Ludwig. They own a riverboat casino, The Elizaveta. We are by the docks right now." I could smell the river and smoke from the steamboats. Feli hopped out of the coach, sending me a sad glance, and Antonio followed. "Please believe me when I say I would never do this with ill intention." He shut the door and they were gone.

When the coach door opened again, it was just Antonio who climbed into the seat next to me. Now that Feliciano was gone he felt tense, and that worried me. Worried me for my own well being, of course. I'd never worry about that bastard.

The coach started again. "Where are we going?" I was past thinking that Antonio would do anything to harm me or my brother, but I still didn't trust him entirely. A lot about him was still shrouded in mystery. Like why was he helping us when we had just met, albeit briefly, that afternoon?

"You are staying with my friend Francis. Now keep an open mind about him and his profession when I tell you this…" Antonio turned to face me. "He owns a bordello in the French Quarter called The Silk Lady." He put his hands up in defense when he saw the expression on my face. "I know, I know! Don't misunderstand him, por favor…he is a good man, if not a little…strange. He is French." He used his nationality almost as an excuse. I narrowed my eyes.

"So my brother is staying with gamblers and I'm staying in a whorehouse? Fuck, Antonio, I'm almost scared to ask about your other friends." The smile on his face was ridiculous, to say the least. "W-What?" I was bewildered, considering our situation. His smile grew and my face turned red. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"You called me Antonio."

His simple response to his simple happiness made my face grow hotter. Oh God, when did that slip past my lips? It must have been…spastic laryngitis or something…yes, that was it. And spastic laryngitis was what caused me to grab onto his shoulders and pull him closer when he pressed his lips to mine.

Antonio's mouth was warm, and his tongue inside of mine was heavenly. I shoved him away all too soon and too late; we were both panting. "What…the _fuck_…was that?" I growled, a hint of panic and confusion in my voice. I believe my voice may have cracked a little as well.

The Spanish bastard didn't even seem embarrassed at the fact that he had just kissed me. Kissed another _man_. He raised his eyebrows, a predatory, lustful look in his sinful green eyes as he licked his lips. What I had already identified as his usual grin was tainted darker, almost a smirk. "Francis has a spare room in the back that you can stay in. No one will disturb you, I promise. But if Francis ever tries anything, mind you…" Antonio slid over to where I sat, pressed as far as I could get against the coach door, and licked my ear, biting playfully at the lobe. I gasped and pressed myself further against the door, willing my body not to react. "…tell him you're already taken, si?"

**Damn Antonio. I want that man. And finally, we're getting to the good shit! And of course it wouldn't be spamano without Antonio having his derp friends in the mix! I had to add them, I had to. *cough* so I haven't been getting that many reviews, dear people. And I know you're reading. **

**I know. You're. Out. There. It makes me sad. So sad, in fact, that I may not continue writing this story…**

**Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? I'd still write this even if no one read it. And trying to force reviews out of you? How sad. XD But reviews would be nice, yes. But I won't threaten you with not continuing this if you don't. So until next chapter, au bientot, chers.**

**Dago – insulting term for Italians used often when they were immigrating into the U.S**

**Ave****o****Maria,****piena****di****grazia,****il****Signore****è****con****te.****Tu****sei****benedetta****fra****le****donne****e****benedetto****…****-****Hail****Mary,****full****of****grace,****the****Lord****is****with****thee.** **Blessed****art****thou****amongst****women****… ****(correct****me****if****I****'****m****wrong,****but****I****believe****this****is****the****beginning****of****the**** '****Hail****Mary****' ****prayer.)**

**Per favore – please (Italian)**

**Buenos noches – good night (Spanish)**

**Bordello – term for a whorehouse or something of that equivalent**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh I got so many reviews on my last chapter! :'D I wasn't expecting that…it made me very happy. So because of that I wrote this chapter yesterday in a flurry of inspiration and happiness. Thank you and you're welcome! I'll just shut up now and let you read, shall I?**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

"Oh bonjour, mon Italien belle~" I had been staying in The Silk Lady for at least three weeks now, and this was my greeting every morning.

I sat at the bar and glared at the French bastard who had been hiding me from the Provenzanos and the authorities without so much as a thank you from me. "Don't call me that, idiota," I growled. It was morning, and the place didn't open until around noon. Not the whorehouse part, mind you! The place was a bar from noon until the…seedier operations began at dusk. When the sun went down I retired to my little room in the back of the place in order to get away from the rougher crowd.

Francis grinned lewdly at me from behind the bar. "So sorry, Lovino. Would you care for some breakfast?" He was washing a glass with a rag, and his eyebrow arched with the question, as if suggesting something much less innocent. And knowing Francis, he probably was.

This was our exchange every morning. I rested my head in my arms. "Yeah fine," I mumbled.

I hadn't seen Antonio since he had left me here three weeks ago, and to tell the truth, I was worried. Not about him, of course! I was worried about my brother. He told me he was going to keep an eye on Feli for me and tell me that he was ok. So far the Spanish asshole hadn't kept up with his promise.

Francis set a plate down by my head and I lifted it, staring at the food. It was crêpes today, I observed, chewing a forkful. I had to admit, though he was a perverted bastard, Francis was a fairly decent cook. Alright, so his food was fucking unbelievable, so what? My only fear was that he might drug it. "So how is my little refugee this fine morning~?" I scowled at the French man resting his head in his hands, smiling at me. "Oh that great, huh?" I just kept my eyes trained on my plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Francis and I didn't have the most vocal relationship; I only ever spoke to him when I had to. Don't take this as ingratitude; I was, though I would never sully my pride to admit, extremely grateful for Francis. That didn't mean I had to like him. "Well fine. The girls are coming over a little early, so if you would care to sorti…"

He turned back to cleaning his glasses. "Why are they coming early?" I was slightly annoyed. I didn't like staying in confined spaces, and I'd rather not have to hide back in that room longer than necessary.

Francis shrugged noncommittally. "Je ne sais pas. As if they don't spend enough time around here as is. Though…" he turned and grinned at me. "I wouldn't mind the company of beautiful young ladies, would you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Che." I'd never seen any of Francis' 'girls', but in my mind prostitutes were all the same. Slutty, emaciated, and diseased. I had no desire to get to know them.

I heard the front door open and my eye twitched. My bad luck was at work again. "Gutt morning, Francis!" A bag was dropped next to me and I jumped, glancing sharply at the bag-holder. My eyes widened; she was fucking beautiful. She had long, wavy light brown hair that flowed down her back and striking green eyes. They were different, of course, than Antonio's. His were ever-changing, but hers were full of strength and shone with a light that wouldn't break.

"Salut, Elizaveta! Ça va?" Francis smiled conversationally with the girl and I just sat there with my mouth shut tightly, not trusting myself to speak. This couldn't be…? Was this one of his…? No way.

"Wah! Francis, Elizaveta! Hello!" The door burst open again and, if possible, an even lovelier creature stepped through it. Her honey blonde hair was just past her shoulders and was held back by a red ribbon. She also had green eyes. I frowned; did everyone in America have green eyes? Well no, Francis' eyes were blue…

"Oh Bella, it's so nice to see you!" Francis stepped from behind the bar and opened his arms for a hug. Bella walked into it willingly, and I was surprised that someone of his acquaintance would do so. The first time he tried to hug me I punched him in the face, but when he hugged Antonio he was just…_groping_ him. The French bastard turned to me and smiled. "Oh Bella, Elizaveta, this is Lovino. He will be staying here for awhile."

I felt the blush creeping up from my neck onto my face. What was I supposed to say? Holy fuck, they were gorgeous. Gorgeous whores! I was forgetting myself; I am Italian, am I not? Flirting is practically second language! "Buon giorno," I coughed, trying to keep cool. Apparently I was going to get to know them whether I liked it or not.

Elizaveta's face lit up and she looked like she was about to pass out. "Oh Francis, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!" She flung herself at the man and positively bathed his face in kisses. I was confused, to say the least. "Where did you find him? And he's so cuuute~!"

"What the fuck is going on here?" I was starting to panic.

Francis grinned, obviously enjoying Elizaveta's attention, and gently pushed her off of him. "Je suis desoleé, Elizaveta, but he does not work here. He is merely staying in a spare room."

My eyes widened as I understood, staring in shocked confusion at the brunette. She thought…that _I_…was one of them? A male prostitute. I was too shocked to even think it as a question. She pouted and looked back over at me. "Aw, damn. He's so perfect though."

Bella walked over to me and held out her hand, a radiant smile on her face. What was with everyone and smiling? Though I suppose on a beautiful girl, it wasn't so bad. "Hello, I'm Fenke, but you can call me Bella."

I smiled charmingly back at her and took her outheld hand in mine, and kissed it. "That's perfect. I would have called you bella anyway. Ciao, my name is Lovino." Oh damn, it was too perfect.

Her cheeks flushed pink and she giggled. "Well, i-it is nice to meet you, Lovino."

"Stop hogging all the man, Bella!" Elizaveta stepped forward and grinned at me, holding her hand out like Bella had before. I hesitantly placed mine in hers and she jolted me from my barstool, pulling me into a crushing hug. "I'm Elizaveta, and I'm from Hungary!"

"L-Lovino!" I choked out, gasping for breath when she finally released me. "I'm…from Italy." I eyed her wearily. The Hungarian was stronger than she looked.

Elizaveta beamed at me. "I could tell from your accent. You're very cute, Lovino."

"Look at his face, aw he's so red!" Bella squealed, giggling to herself. The comment caused me to turn an even deeper mortified shade.

"Shh!" Elizaveta snapped. She turned back to me, putting an arm around my shoulder. She was smiling enchantingly, and her emerald green eyes flashed at me enticingly. "So Lovino," she started to lead me over to a booth, and Bella flanked my other side, putting her arm around my shoulders as well. I was helpless to her apple green eyes. _Green__eyes,__green__eyes__everywhere_, I thought dazedly. They reminded me of someone, someone I was mad at, someone who was supposed to do something for me. "How is Italy? I've heard it's a beautiful country. Why don't you tell us about it?"

"Francis, can we have some wine please?" Bella's voice was silk in my ear, and I shivered. _Oh,__this__is__their__job;__this__is__what__they__do__for__a__living._My mind was fried, muddled and confused by these two. The next thing I knew we were sitting in the booth, talking and laughing, drunk off our asses. At least I was. Before noon, I thought.

How pathetic.

"Are there mountains where you lived, Lovino?" Bella was leaning on my arm, and her apple eyes were just begging me to take her. I won't lie and say I didn't consider it. Fuck, I considered a lot of things. I was drunk for Christ's sake.

"Yes, are there? I would so love to know. You've never told me about your home, Lovi."

Even in my drunken morning haze I recognized that voice. "The voice of the damned," I muttered, and Antonio laughed.

"No Lovi, but close," he purred, pulling me up from the booth. Elizaveta had disappeared from my side and I hadn't even noticed. The Spanish bastard turned to Elizaveta and Bella and smiled charmingly. "Excuse me ladies, but little Lovi here seems to have had too much to drink. I will take him to bed." They stared, enchanted by the exotic Spaniard, and nodded furiously. There was a light in the Hungarian's eye I didn't like.

"No, I'm fine," I grumbled as I was led from the room. I was leaning heavily on Antonio for support. Damn, how much had I had to drink?

"Please, don't kid yourself Lovino." His voice was absolutely feline; we were playing a game of cat and mouse and I, unfortunately, was the mouse. The door shut behind us and he pounced. He was on my neck, nuzzling it, nipping at it, licking and lapping at my pulse. I made shameless noises of pleasure, leaning against the wall and clutching onto his shirt for support.

"Nngh…" Oh God, it was so wrong. So deliciously, fantastically, horribly wrong.

"Mm? What's that, mi tomate?" Antonio pulled away to look at me. His eyes had that same feral edge they did when we had kissed the first time. Dangerous, fluid green fire.

I couldn't take it. I shut my eyes and looked away. "Ah Dio, per favore, don't do this…" My grip on his shirt got tighter.

"Don't do what, Lovi?" he said huskily, grinding into me. There was amusement in his voice, as if he were just toying with me. Like a cat before it disemboweled its rodent victim.

An electric current shot down my spine and I cursed, gasping loudly as my body melted against his. It was the wine, the wine, I thought. _Too__much__fucking__wine__and__your__body__is__reacting__because__of__it._It was unlike anything I'd felt, though. Different from the way Bella and Elizaveta made me feel. How to describe this?

"D-Don't…stop looking at me!" I said through clenched teeth, trying to control myself.

Antonio chuckled lowly, a deep throaty sound almost like a tiger's growl. It was seductive velvet. "Is that what you want, mi amor? I'll look at you all day and night if you wish me to. I'll watch you as I fuck you senseless, watching your face contort into the most ecstatic, euphoric pleasure you've ever experienced-"

"Stop it, stop it!" I seethed, almost pleading with him. "Stop looking at me…" I said it little above a whisper.

I could smell him. A warm, sugary soothing smell. There was something metal there too, something dangerous. A reminder that Antonio wasn't all that he seemed. "But why, mi tomate? You are so beautiful." His lips brushed mine as he spoke, and soon they were connected.

He was so fucking delicious. But that had to have been the wine talking, of course that was it…

It was the wine that made me tangle my fingers into his hair, moaning into his mouth, moaning his name.

"Oh fuck, Antonio…" I groaned, unable to take it. He had to do something about this. My body was so hot…

"Yes, mi querido?" He pulled away again and I growled at the lost contact.

"You have to…per favore…" I panted, desperately trying to get my thoughts together. What was it I really wanted?

He nuzzled my neck. "Have to…what, Lovi?" The amusement in his voice told me he already knew.

I didn't care. I gripped his shirt even tighter and leaned against him fully. "Fuck," I whispered lowly into his ear.

He chuckled. "Sweet, lovely Lovi…you're drunk."

"Yes…"

"And so vulnerable…"

"Yes…" I breathed. My eyes fluttered shut; this was it. And suddenly he stepped back, and I fell onto the small cot I had. I turned towards him frantically, confusion on my face. "What're you…" Antonio stood with that same smirk and turned away from me, back to my door. My heart leapt to my throat. "W-wait…"

He turned back to me, his hand still on the doorknob. "You're drunk, Lovi. You're not thinking clearly." He looked apologetic but condescending at the same time, and I felt anger rising within me. "I'll just leave you with the thought of me pounding you into those sheets, shall I? Adios, mi tomate." He was gone before I could get my drunken brain to form a retort.

And the anger was still rising, rising, a hot, bubbling force of—

My eyes widened and I retched onto the floor. Oh. It was just vomit.

I promptly fell asleep against my pillow.

**Yay for teaser chapters~ *shot* I know, I'm terrible. C'est la vive. So question, good people: should I make a chapter that shows Feliciano's half of the story? Or a separate fic for him? I'm currently indecisive. I would love if you could review your opinions, though. Until next chapter, au bientot!**

**This edit is for a few translation fuck ups. I did them from memory, so that's why some were wrong. If I ever mess up again, don't hesitate to point it out!**

**Bonjour, mon Italien belle. – Hello, my Italian beauty. (French)**

**Sorti – leave (French, though I'm not sure if it's in the correct tense)**

**Je ne sais pas. – I don't know. (French)**

**Salut, ça va? – Hi, how are you? (French)**

**Buon giorno – Good Morning (Italian)**

**Je suis desoleé – I'm sorry (French)**

**Bella – beautiful (Italian)**

**Ciao – Hello or Goodbye, in this case hello (Italian)**

**Mi tomate – you should know this one by now, guys. My tomato (Spanish)**

**Dio, per favore… – God, please… (Italian)**

**Adios – alright, come on. This is basic Spanish. goodbye**


	5. Chapter 5

**This is probably going to be the last update before Christmas, you guys. Sorry, but I can't write when I'm at my dad's, and I don't think I'll be able to get another chapter done before then. So until then, enjoy this, yes?**

**I don't own Hetalia, but I do own the heartache that came with writing this chapter.**

I awoke that evening with a pounding headache and half-remembered promiscuity. I stretched, groaned, and regretted it; my back seized up. "Fuck…"

I cracked open an eye and saw that my floor had been freshly mopped; I in turn glanced over at my nightstand and saw a note:

_I came in after your friend Antonio left and saw the vomit on the floor. Decided to clean it up before you woke up. Good night! - Elizaveta _

I blinked at the eloquently looped words with confusion. Elizaveta could write. And judging by the calligraphy, she had had an education. I heard a muffled moan through the wall and I frowned. Why was a girl like that…here?

I tried to stand and found that the room started to spin, so I fell back onto my cot. The muffled music of the bar and the rowdy calls of men came farther off. Catcalls and whistles and general bar background noise. I scowled; no doubt the place was crawling with creeps, pervs and assholes. I decided to hide another night in this tiny, dirty room. Calling it dirty was mean, I guess. Francis really did take care of the place.

I laid back against my pillow and smiled bitterly. Wasn't it ironic that I, a Vargas, had gone from the highest pillar of the criminal underworld to a fugitive of the law overnight? _Wasn__'__t__this__what__you__were__trying__to__escape__when__you__left__Italy?_ I sighed, rolling the pillow on top of my head, intending to sleep off my hangover.

0o0

"Good morning, Lovino!"

My eyebrows rose in surprise when I saw Elizaveta and Bella sitting at the bar that morning, eating crêpes like they'd been doing it all their life. Francis was behind the bar eating an omlette, standing next to another girl I'd never seen before. She looked…a little young to be a prostitute. With sun-browned skin like she'd spent everyday of her life on a seashore and sun-bleached brown hair tied in two twin ponytails, she was beautiful, in an innocent way. My eyes hardened and I turned to the perverted, sick French bastard in righteous Catholic fury.

"Whatever is the matter, mon ami?" Francis looked honestly worried. "Did Antoine do something to offend? Oh, I don't believe you have met my daughter. This is Angélique."

Oh. His daughter.

Well she did have his blue eyes. I calmed down. "Buon giorno. Uhm…" I turned back to the other two, blushing when I saw the suggestive grins on their faces. Especially Elizaveta's. "Why are you two here again…?"

Elizaveta raised her eyebrows and her grin grew. "Oh no reason. Last night we scolded Franny here for not telling us about you sooner. Three weeks!" She shot another withering glance at him before turning her smile back to me. "And he told us you only ever came out in the mornings. Sooo…"

"We're gonna come over and keep you company!" Bella's grin was blinding. Like holy fuck, her happiness must have been infectious because I actually laughed.

"Oh yay, you're happy! So," Elizaveta pointed to the stool next to her with business-like purpose. I sat; baffled at the sudden change of atmosphere, but as soon as I sat she was back to smiling, leaning on her arms. "What's between you and Antonio~?"

I scowled. "Hey asshole, can I have some wine? I'm going to need it."

Francis chuckled. "Drinking early in the morning has never left you in the best of positions, has it?"

"I don't know, Francis. I think missionary is quite a nice one," Elizaveta snickered and I whirled around to face her. She winked.

"Wha…what are you…i-insinuating…?" I spluttered, face beet red. I know it was, because it was on fire. Bella laughed, a lilting bell of a noise. A girl's laugh.

"Come on Lovino, we heard you guys in there! I mean, he left kind of early, but-"

"We don't judge!" Elizaveta added in hastily. With each passing second I was growing more and more mortified.

Oh God.

Oh God.

I remembered now; the half remembered hazes of memory were unclouding like a foggy window. Antonio in my room. His scent. His low voice. His hair through my fingers. Those noises, oh God those shameful_noises_—

"But nothing happened."

"Oh don't worry, sweetie." Elizaveta put a comforting hand on my back. She took my incredulity for disappointment. I was so confused and suspicious of the Spanish bastard that I didn't take notice. "It's all in time, these things take time…"

I didn't really hear her; I was thinking. He kissed me. Maybe once I could forgive it, but he did it again. He did a little more than kiss me actually, if I wanted to be completely honest with myself. _I__was__drunk;__he__took__advantage__of__me__…_No. He really could have; I believe that. But he didn't. Why?

"Hey…Lovino?" I faded out of my reverie and stared into Bella's concerned face. "You look like something's troubling you. I'm sorry if we brought up anything unpleasant, but as your friends it is our duty to fix it."

"Excuse me?" When were these two insane hookers my friends? Though I suppose I didn't hate them. Not like Francis, anyway.

"What?" Elizaveta also seemed confused. Well at least _someone_ was on the same page as me; I'd decided that Bella was a little crazier than the Hungarian beside me, but a good-natured kind of crazy.

Bella smiled. "Lovino, you've been stuck in this dingy bar for three weeks!"

"Excusé-moi, but my Lady is not _dingy_," Francis said sulkily. I had to admit, it was a higher class of bar and bordello than I had seen before, especially for something in the French Quarter. Bella didn't give it enough credit.

"So you are coming with me and Eliza to shop in town!" Bella ignored Francis and hopped off her barstool, making her way to the front door. "Bye Francis, Angélique! See you tonight, kay?"

I leaned over to Elizaveta. "Is she insane?" I whispered.

"Nah. She's Belgian." Elizaveta sighed, hoping off the barstool. "Best follow her so she doesn't get into any trouble. Hey Bella, wait up!"

"Mon amis, wait! I don't think Lovino should leave…"

"Oh lighten up, Franny!" Bella grinned, taking me by the arm and winking at the Frenchman. "He needs to live a little; you can't just keep him captive here!"

"Bella, I don't think you understand…"

"Don't worry, Francis, we'll keep him out of trouble. He'll be with us!" Elizaveta took me by my other arm and smiled reassuringly at Francis. Surprisingly, he seemed to relax, feeling more comfortable with Elizaveta's reassurance than Bella's.

"Fine…" He still seemed reluctant. "But don't stay too long."

0o0

As we walked the streets of New Orleans I had time to ponder why Francis had been so worried. Sure, he openly flirted with me whenever he got the chance, but he was like that with anyone. The French bastard didn't _love_me, that was something I just knew. I was rude to him, I never thanked him for hiding me…

And suddenly it clicked.

Francis was hiding me, and I wasn't supposed to leave The Silk Lady.

I had been reluctant to the arrangement, but I knew it could have been much worse. I knew how ubiquitous the mafia could be; a mafioso could be the old guy reading the paper at your favorite coffee shop or a little kid running down the street after his buddies. Hell, it could be the stray dog that you feed every morning. So to protect my brother and myself, I agreed to what Antonio had proposed. He had stressed that I wasn't safe outside of Francis' bordello.

I wasn't safe. And if something happened…what would happen to me? To Francis? What would Antonio do when he found out?

And here came the thought that I always came back to; the familiar constant of the stupid Spaniard's mysterious motives. Why did Antonio care? Why was the Spanish bastard so set on keeping my brother and me safe? And then I remembered that goodbye kiss in the coach, and the events in the guest room of The Silk Lady on a particularly drunken morning…

"Hey Lovino, we're gonna meet up with a few of the other girls, kay?"

"Huh?" I turned towards Bella and blushed. Italian charms my ass. Not when it comes to Belgians, apparently. "Yeah alright. Sure."

Elizaveta let out an annoyed huff. "The others. Ugh, Bella. Who?"

Bella fidgeted uncomfortably. "W-Well, you know…Lian, and Yao…and Natalya."

"Natalya!" Bella cringed at the shout. "Natalya! That stuck up, cold Russian? She's a sociopath, Bella!"

"She's from Belarus…"

"Same difference! Ugh." Elizaveta turned to face the water. "When were you planning to tell me you invited _her_…?"

I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. I felt so out of place…

"I'm sorry, Ellie, really! You don't have to go if you don't want to." Bella looked really repentive, and almost childlike in her sorrow.

Elizaveta glanced sourly at her, arms crossed over her chest. She was obviously still upset about not being told about the Belarusian. "Well I won't."

"Ok, I deserve that!" Bella was nodding, snatching at repentance from the older Hungarian. It was funny how she could remind me of Feliciano sometimes. Wait- that sounded weird. Whatever. I don't think about my brother that way…but I couldn't help but miss the idiot. The way he would fawn over every stray animal that wandered to our doorstep, as if they knew that Feli would take care of them. His uncanny ability to see the good in everyone. Hell, no wonder everyone who met him fell head over heels for him.

"And…" Elizaveta paused, staring hard at Bella. I could tell that she was trying to get something else out of her in this apology, and when her green eyes lit up mischievously I knew she had it. "I want Lovino to come with me while you go with the others."

Bella's pupils dilated for a split second in surprise; she hadn't been expecting that. I hadn't either. Why the fuck was I being dragged into this? The blonde bit her lip. "Fine." She said it curtly, resignedly, as if she really believed she deserved it. As if she really wanted my company…

Elizaveta grinned and linked her arm with mine. "Thanks, Bells! Now you go have fun~!"

"I'm sure you'll have more fun…" I heard Bella grumble as the Hungarian dragged me away.

0o0

Elizaveta and I spent the afternoon just walking around town. Every now and again she would drag me into a store and try things on, urging me to try things on as well. I had to admit, it wasn't a terrible way to spend an afternoon. Especially after being stuck in a tiny fucking room for three weeks. We were walking along the water when I finally asked what had been on my mind since last night. "Hey, Elizaveta?"

"Hm?" Her tone was amused, and her eyes sparkled with content.

It almost stopped me from asking, as if I somehow knew what was to come. "Why…are you here?"

She grinned wryly. "I don't know, Lovino. Why are_you_ here~?"

"No, I mean…why are you here, in America? Why are you a prostitute?" She grew quiet, and her arm dropped from mine. She turned and leaned on the rail of the pier, looking out into the water. "You left me a note this morning. That wasn't self-taught calligraphy, Elizaveta." I didn't know why I cared so much; I didn't…_like_ Elizaveta like that, ok? Maybe we were just…_friends_ and as a concerned…_friend_ I was wondering why she endured such a demeaning existence when she must have had so much more before she came here.

Her green eyes held sadness as she stared into the Gulf. "You're right, Lovino. I was an aristocrat in Hungary." She sighed heavily, as if she had to will herself to continue speaking. "My parents had arranged me to marry into an Austrian family. With Roderich." She sighed again, and I could tell she was thinking of him. "He was quiet, reserved. He loved to read, to play piano. God, he played beautifully." Her lower lip quivered for a second, but then that strength I noticed the first time I had seen her returned and her lip stilled. "He wrote me sonatas, and played the most amazing minuets…" She turned to me with the heaviest sadness in her eyes. "There was a child…a beautiful, beautiful little boy. I loved him more than I thought I could any living thing. But there was an accident, a terrible accident…" My heart dropped sickeningly. "Roderich was never the same. I loved him, Lovino. But he…didn't love…me." She turned back towards the ocean. "There was another woman. Most wives would have stayed and endured the shame brought to her family, but I couldn't. I tried, but I couldn't. I left him, because in my opinion he had already left me." She let out a shaky laugh and casually swiped at her eyes with her arm.

I felt bad that I'd ever brought it up, causing her to remember these pains she'd obviously buried for quite some time. It was then that I realized Elizaveta wasn't invulnerable like I had thought she was. Her initial impression on me was one of strength, resilience, and a little bit of insanity. Now I knew the reason. But she had to be…I imagined what she must have gone through, the death of her child, abandoning her husband and her family. Never seeing them again…_isn__'__t__that__what__you__did?_

"So I left. I wanted to get as far away from that old life as possible." The tears were gone, the only trace they had ever been there being the slight redness of her eyes. "I thought things would be different in America. America is the land of opportunity, they said. I could make something of myself without a man. What a lie." I could tell the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave had treated Elizaveta with about as much kindness as it had me. "Men spurn women walking the streets without a man by their side. Women, too! Married women…no one even offered me a job because I had no husband…but when you're a whore…" she smiled bitterly. "…no one cares."

"Elizaveta…" She turned towards me again, and I couldn't remember what I was going to say. I wanted to comfort her, but as I've said before, this wasn't something I was good at. I tried to keep myself out of these situations, so I just…stood there lamely.

She smiled again, a real smile. "It was nice being with you today, Lovino. With you by my side, going into stores, dressed like a lady, no one was staring. No one was judging. I felt normal again." She pulled me into a hug. "Thank you. You're a good friend." We stood there like that for a while, her arms tight around me, while I just stood there dumbly, unsure what to do. Then she finally pulled back. "It's getting late. We have to get you back to Francis."

0o0

It was early evening on the way back to The Silk Lady, and we met up with Bella and a few others I hadn't met before. Francis' other girls. The shy one with long, flowing black hair like an oil spill was Lian, and she was from Taiwan. The pale beauty with nearly white blonde hair and the stoic face was Natalya the Belarusian, and the last had brown hair down to the middle of her back, tied into a loose ponytail. This was Yao, who I soon discovered to be a Chinese male. The others had laughed as my face turned red and I stuttered over apologies. He didn't mind, apparently.

After that, we made our way back to The Silk Lady and Francis greeted us with dramatics. ("Oh sweet Lovino, you're unharmed! Mon dieu, I was so worried~!") When he tried to hug me I head butted him and the girls (and Yao) all laughed at their employer's misfortune, filing into the bordello one after the other. I followed after them, getting a rounding chorus of 'goodbyes' as I made my way back to my small room for the evening.

That night I dreamt of the old days back in Italy when Feliciano and I were little, and I dreamt of Nonno. And I thought to myself, _did__I__make__the__right__decision?_

**Fucking Christ, why do I do this to myself? *sigh* Well Antonio should be in the next chapter, so there's that. Shouldn't be any angst in the next chapter…or at least not that much. I don't know. I haven't written it yet. But do believe that by the time you read this that I'll have already started it! I will try to get another chapter in before Christmas and New Year's, but don't count on anything. And since I'm not sure, let me wish you guys early greetings, yes?**

**Happy Hanukkah! (21)**

**Merry Christmas! (25)**

**Happy Kwanzaa! (26) and Boxing Day for you Canadians!**

**Happy New Year! (1)**

**There, seasons stuff out of the way now. Just covering my ass. Reviews for my angst-ridden chapter? Oh, and I've decided I don't think I want to write any of Feli's story. I'll just live with that part in my brain~**

**Translations~! Not many this chapter, huh?**

**Mon ami – my friend (French)**

**Buon giorno – good morning (Italian)**

**Excusé-moi – excuse me (I don't actually think this is real French…)**

**Mon dieu – my god (French)**

**I decided to put in all the translations (even though I figured they were all obvious ones in this chapter) since there weren't that many.**


	6. Chapter 6

**What did I tell you? Yeah I know, I'm slow as all hell. You don't have to tell me.**

**I don't own Hetalia, but could someone arrange a meeting with Scott Freeman? Please~?**

After that the days went by fairly monotonously. Elizaveta and Bella would greet me every morning from the bar, and I soon became accustomed to their presence. Fuck, I even started to not mind them. What can I say? I have a weakness for pretty women.

Despite being treated fairly well and not being shot at in quite awhile, my mood grew worse every day.

That Spanish bastard hadn't come back since that day he'd molested me.

And it's not like I wanted to see him! I-It's just, he promised me that he would tell me how Feliciano was. At this point I didn't even know if the idiot was dead or alive! And so that was why, a month into my incarceration, I snapped.

"Ah, mon ami, bon matin! Would you like breakfast?"

"Lovino!"

"Good morn—"

I walked with purpose over to the bar and grabbed Francis by his shirt front, pulling him almost over the bar. His eyes widened. "Where the fuck is your stupid Spanish friend, asshole?" I seethed. The Frenchman looked absolutely terrified, and I had to bite back a smirk. Either he was just a French pussy, or I was really fucking scary. I was going to go with the latter option. "Where is Antonio?"

"Ah! J-Je ne sais pas, mon ami! Lovino, if I knew I would tell you!" He had his hands raised in surrender. "Antoine likes to keep his wanderings to himself, oui? Sil-vous plaît, I don't know!"

I shoved him away from me in irritation and ran to the front door. I couldn't stay there any longer; I had to know if my brother was alright!

"Lovino!"

"Lovino, please don't leave!"

"Antoine would be angry with me if you left, Lovino!"

"Fuck you—AH!"

As I turned to shout a parting obscenity at the trio, I bumped into something very solid and very human. Something that caught me before I fell. "Well that wasn't very cute, Lovi." Pouting green eyes stared back at me.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and glared up at the Spaniard. "It wasn't meant to be, bastard. Get the fuck away." I shoved him from me and stood a few feet from him. Being near him made my body feel weird. I chalked it up to the way he was around me.

He grinned. "I see you're not drunk again this morning. Too bad."

"Sh-Shut up! You asshole! Taking advantage of drunk guys like that! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shouted, cringing at the eyes on my back. We had an audience.

Antonio looked repentive, as if he knew he had upset me. Like he really fucking cared. Whatever. "Lo siento, Lovi. Can we go talk in your room?"

My face got even hotter as I remembered what happened last time he had managed to get me in there. "N-No! And where's my brother, you bastard?"

Antonio frowned. "I really don't think we should talk about this here, cariño. Would you like to leave? You haven't in awhile, si?"

I glared hard at him and he stared back, waiting patiently for my reply. I finally broke eye contact and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah fine, whatever…anything to get out of this fucking whorehouse."

0o0

"Where's my brother, asshole? If you got him hurt, I fucking swear—"

"No Lovi, he is fine." Antonio ran a hand through the bangs of his long dark hair. That fucking hair always tied back into a ponytail. It was way too damn long. "You…wish me to cut my hair, Lovino?" Antonio looked bewildered.

Fuck. Had I said that out loud? "Do whatever the fuck you want. It's your goddamn hair," I growled, crossing my arms over my chest. "Now why couldn't you just tell me my brother was ok and then leave? Why did you have to drag me all the way out here?" I glanced around; we were no longer in the French Quarter, and I was starting to feel antsy. I had been at Francis' for so long that it felt safe to me, and this was way out of my comfort zone.

Antonio sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Well you see, Lovino…" he coughed discreetly. I paled; something was wrong. He never called me Lovino, no matter how many times I told him to. Something was seriously fucking wrong. "Your brother is, um, quite well. Very well, in fact. So well that—"

"Get to the fucking point, asshole!" I could feel the panic rising in my chest, and if it was something stupid like Feliciano ran into a wall and now one of his teeth were missing then I would head butt this guy.

"Ah. Si. Well." Antonio coughed again. "You see, Feliciano became fast friends with Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig." I stared at him blankly. "They were very good friends, little Feli and Ludwig…ha…ha ha…"

"Why are you saying 'were'?" I said quietly, feeling the hot, angry tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY FRATELLINO?"

Antonio put his arms around me and pulled me to his chest; I didn't resist him. Fuck. Son of a bitch, my brother was…

"Do not cry, Lovi, please do not cry. I say 'were' because they are no longer friends." I breathed a shaky sigh of relief and glared up at the Spaniard. That was it, then? Why was I supposed to give two fucks? "They are lovers."

I think my eyebrows may have jumped off of my head when he said that.

That was…

My brother and a…

"W-What…?"

"Si, and they no longer wished to stay on Gilbert's riverboat. So they…um…sort of…left without telling…"

"My brother…my brother is…" 

"I know it's difficult to accept, Lovi, but your brother has run away to Chicago with Ludwig. It took awhile for me to track him down, but he is safe, do not worry!"

"My brother…IS DATING A GERMAN?" I punched Antonio in the stomach. "You asshole! You absolute asshole! This is all your fault! If you hadn't sent him there—"

The stupid Spanish bastard was holding his stomach in pain. Good. "I know, I know Lovino! I've held this off as long as I could, but I thought I should tell you now—"

"HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN GONE?" I was getting more furious by the second. This day just kept getting worse.

"Not long, not long at all!" Antonio held his hands up in surrender. "Don't hit me again, por favor," he flinched. "Maybe a few weeks, or I would have visited you sooner. The reason I told you now is because-Lovi, where are you going?"

"Which direction is north?" I leered impatiently around in all directions. "I need to get to Chicago. There's a German I need to kill."

"Lovino, wait!" Antonio grabbed onto my shoulder and jerked me back when I started to walk away. "I knew you would overreact and do this, which is why I didn't want you at the bordello. And I can not allow you to go to Chicago."

I glared up at him. "You have no fucking right to tell me where I can and can not go," I said poisonously.

Antonio stared evenly back at me and I had to force myself not to tear my gaze away from his. His green eyes held so many conflicting emotions. They swirled with anger at my disobedience, flickering with a dark emotion that told me he wanted to kill me, just a little bit, or maybe just frighten me wit the close possibility of death, and then came acceptance, and last of all…love.

I looked away. It's kind of hard to glare into eyes filled with love, okay?

"Fine," he finally said. "But I can not allow you to go alone. I will go with you."

"Great then." I turned and started to walk back from whence we came.

"Where are you going now?"

0o0

"Bye Lovino! I'll miss you so much!" Bella waved frenetically at me, a quiet Lian at her side. She was waving too, but demurely, unlike the Belgian lunatic. Yao had his arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face. Natalya just stood there and stared. Though unbelievably beautiful, she kind of creeped me out.

"You better come back, Lovino! Or at least write!" Elizaveta shouted, waving just as energetically as her blonde counterpart. Were those…tears? No, I wouldn't believe it. That would just get_ me_ emotional.

"Oui, you are welcome anytime, Lovino!" Francis flashed an elegant smile and I rolled my eyes. His daughter Angélique smiled and waved goodbye from his side.

"Arrivederci!" I called back, turning back to the bastard at my side. His grin made my face get hot and I frowned at him as we walked away. "What? What the fuck is that face for?"

"Oh nothing," Antonio snickered. "Little Lovi is such a ladies man~!"

"Better fucking believe it," I grumbled, glancing back at the still waving figures that grew smaller in the blazing setting sun, soon just black dots that even then faded until they were gone.

Antonio pulled me into a swinging hug. "Ah, Lovinito wishes to make me jealous~! You are so sweet, mi tomate! A pequeño tomate dulce~"

"Sh-Shut up! Get off me, bastardo! Hey, idiota!" I smacked and shoved at his shoulders trying to get him to put me down. At first he just laughed, and then finally he relented, setting me back with my feet on the cobbled sidewalk. I glanced at him uneasily from the corner of my eye. He was so strong…I don't think I ever would have gotten my feet back on the ground unless he let me. "So. Chicago?"

The amused, laughing light in Antonio's eyes seemed to fade and his smile turned to a serious expression. It was strange to me how easily he could flip the switch from happy to serious. Every time I was surprised at his sudden bouts of seriousness. What? It's his own fault; he's such a space-case most of the time. "Yes, we'll have to take a train. The last train today left already."

I stared at him. "Well where the fuck are we going then?"

Antonio smiled a wry, knowing smile. "We are staying at mi casa, Lovi."

I gaped at him. "Your house? Your little hovel? We'd be better off staying at that French bastard's place, holy fuck! At least it has decent accommodations!"

Antonio kept grinning. "Aw, do you not like my home, Lovinito?"

"Your house? A small gust of wind would blow it over! It's tiny and dirty and there's barely anything in it!" Antonio's grin just got wider as we walked on. I didn't understand why, and I just kept getting angrier and angrier, ranting about the state of disrepair his little shanty was in. Then we arrived at his house.

Holy fuck.

"Welcome to mi casa, Lovi." The stupid lying Spanish bastard gave me the widest shit-eating grin as he opened the front door and ushered me inside this absolute mansion of a house. Well, mansion comparing that hovel, but I'll admit it was a little bigger than my and Feli's old house too. And that was a weird thought. Thinking of our house in the Second Municipality as a previous residence. But obviously things couldn't go back to the way they were, especially not with my stupid little brother in Chicago with an even stupider German.

"You…lying…bastard," I gaped, staring around the foyer in wonder. Fuck, there was a mini grand staircase and everything! I turned and glared at his smirking ass in the front doorway. "You do_ not_ live here."

"Oh but I do, mi Lovi. This is my home." His grin was permanent now, as if he couldn't get over the amusement of fucking with my mind. He shut the front door. "Would you like to stay in the guest room or my room?" He purred as he walked past me and my face was set ablaze.

"You pervert!" I shouted at him and he turned back to me on the staircase, cocking his head to the side with mock confusion.

"Oh Lov, I wasn't suggesting anything! I just have a very nice room, and I was wondering if you would rather stay there and I take the guest room." His grin grew and my blush darkened in anger. Ah yes, anger. It had nothing to do with the way his ass looked as he climbed the staircase. It had nothing to do with the thoughts that had flooded my brain the moment Antonio had suggested I stay in his room.

Oh Lovino, you keep telling yourself that.

"I'll stay in the fucking guest room," I grumbled, stomping up the stairs after him, all the while wondering who the fuck Antonio really was. What was that other shithole he had let me assume was his home? How could he afford a place like _this_? Only people involved in politics and those involved in the criminal underworld had nice places like this, and I knew the bastard wasn't some hotshot politician. That left one option. "Hey, bastard." I had finally reached the top of the stairs, and he paused at the beginning of the hallway, turning to look back at me.

"Si, Lovi?"

"…" I hesitated. So many questions swirled around my head, like most importantly WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? I'd asked him that many times before and he always avoided my questions…and though before it was just a mild curiosity, now it was a burning inquiry. He knew who_ I_ was, I recalled. He knew the significance of the name Vargas. So who the hell was he really? Again I remembered how he acted in the police station and I had to wonder, was this smiley, bubbly Spaniard the act? Was that dangerous, cruel-eyed man the real him?

"…Never mind."

Antonio frowned and cocked his head to the side. "Are you ok, Lovi? You look…" The frown on his face grew, as if he were genuinely worried about me. Well I had to give him props; he was a good fucking actor.

"I. Am. Fine," I seethed, glaring venomously at him, daring him to continue.

Antonio continued frowning, staring at me like some sort of puzzle. "Ok then. This is the guest room." The Spaniard opened the door to the room he stood in front of and I walked stiffly over and into the room, staring around with my eyebrows raised. The walls were a dusty, faded red and the rug the color of rich blood. The large bed made of some sort of dark wood (chestnut?) with pale yellow sheets and earthy tones for pillows dominated the room besides the matching bureau and bedside table. It took me a few seconds to realize that this was not the guest room. I whirled around.

"Hey, asshole-!"

Antonio wasn't there. Apparently in my few seconds of gaping at his actually quite nice room he had walked off. I heard the soft click of the door down the hall and cursed to myself. The bastard had given me his room. Great. Running my hand through my hair I sighed; there wasn't much I could do about it now, was there? Besides, it wasn't like the stupid bastard was in the room _with_ me. What was the big deal, I kept telling myself as I climbed into the large bed.

I shivered as I pulled the covers over me. It was dead silent in the house, and cold in the room. Alone and in this large bed, it was actually quite ominous. I definitely wasn't used to sleeping alone; though there were two bedrooms in our house, my brother had insisted we share a room because he was scared. I couldn't blame him, I mean, we were the only two looking out for each other in this damned country. I had thought I didn't need the company, and only did it for my little brother's sake…guess I was wrong. Maybe…maybe I should call that Spanish bastard in here…what could one night hurt?

"Idiota," I scolded myself harshly, rolling over and pulling the blankets closer as I shivered. I had better shake those rebellious thoughts out of my head before the morning.

**Che, short chapter. I just really wanted to update this, you know? I hated leaving it on that last note for so long. No Antonio? Blasphemy. I don't think saying this does much, but review? Per favore? S'il-vous plait? Por favor? Writing is what I live for, (besides…Hetalia) and reviews make me so happy~**

**Bon matin – Good morning (French)**

**Je ne sais pas – I don't know (French)**

**Lo siento – I'm sorry (Spanish)**

**Cariño – love, like in affection (Spanish)**

**Arrivederci – goodbye (Italian)**

**Pequeño tomate dulce – sweet little tomato (Spanish)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Man, I never know what to write in these things anymore. Seriously. Maybe it's because I end up rushing before school to do it? Yeah, that has to be it.**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

"Lovi~"

My eyes creaked open to harsh morning light and I hurriedly closed them again. Fuck, the stupid bastard's room must face east. I groaned when I realized going back to sleep would be impossible; I was dreadfully awake, and with consciousness I remembered all that Antonio had told me the day before.

My little brother. The damn German. Chicago.

At the city name my brow furrowed; why did it sound so familiar? I didn't know a lot of the names of places in America. Hell, I was doing good remembering where everything was in New Orleans, and that was only because I lived there. I knew of New York, but that was only because everyone looking to move to America knew about New York. New York with its green French lady standing tall and proud in her harbor. Sometimes I wondered if she was really there, or if she was a lie too, dreamt up by bastard Americans wanting to lure in foreigners to do cheap labor for less than the average man. I found it hard to rule that out.

But still, I couldn't for the life of me remember where I had heard the name Chicago. I repeated it over and over in my head like a mantra, thinking maybe the more I said it it would just come to me, the origin of the mystery city in my brain revealing itself. Chicago…Chicago…

"Lovi~"

My brows furrowed even worse than before; what the hell was that annoying bird? Birds have no right to chirp so damn early in the morning with their chipper tweets and aggravating squawks, I still believe that. I fucking hate birds.

"Buenos dias~" 

My eyes flew open; that wasn't a fucking bird. It was much worse. "Asshole, get out of here!" I screeched, kicking at the Spaniard through the blankets draped over me. He merely laughed as he quickly got out of range of my flying limbs.

"But this is my room Lovinito! You would keep me out of my own room?"

I glared up at him, unable to help the red that flushed my cheeks. "Yes!"

He grinned back at me, flashing a strange, lop-sided smile that said he thought I was hopeless.

"In an endearing kind of way."

"What?" My heart leapt to my throat; as irrational as I knew the thought was, I suddenly couldn't help thinking the bastard was somehow telepathic. And if he was telepathic… I quickly tried to erase the thoughts I had thought last evening from my head.

Antonio stared at me like I had grown another head. "You accused me of thinking you were hopeless. I said in an endearing way." He looked extremely confused, like his head might split in two if I didn't say something rational in the next five seconds.

Well fuck. I really needed to stop with this talking-aloud-without-realizing-it thing. And suddenly…I found myself chuckling quietly to myself. Oh no. I couldn't help it; Antonio's face was too funny. "What is so funny?" He looked even more confused now at seeing the smile on my face, and fucking Christ I couldn't contain it…I burst into laughter. Loud, obnoxious laughter. "Lov…?"

"F-_Fuck_…you look so damn stupid…" I said through bouts of laughter, smirking at him as it died down into small chuckles. Finally, when I felt I had gotten control of my abominable laughter, I faced him again. His face was expressionless. "Hoo…that, uhm, hurt my stomach," I commented awkwardly as he continued to stare at me. Suddenly he let out a small Mona Lisa smile, letting out a small chuckle to himself.

"I will never understand you, Lovino Vargas," he murmured, turning his green eyes back to me. I glared evenly back at him. "I don't mean to be rude, but are you going to leave so I can get dressed?"

I blinked rapidly in indignation. "W-What?" It was at about this time that I realized that Antonio was only wearing pajama bottoms. Oh God how had I not noticed it earlier. He looked as if Michelangelo had sculpted him! I mentally kicked myself at the thought. My face regained its rouge and I threw a pillow at him. "What the hell! Bastard! Why couldn't you have put some clothes on before you came in here?" I shrieked, throwing pillows until I had no more.

He ducked, catching another pillow in his hand. "Actually…I did." He grinned lewdly and I growled in disgust and irritation, throwing the blanket over my head so he couldn't see how my face darkened. "I don't really keep clothes in the guest room though, so…I didn't have many options." I didn't respond. "Lovi, does this mean you are going to stay here as I get dressed?" I could here the grin in his voice.

I shot out of the bed and raced to the door, shooting one last glare at him before slamming the door. As I stood alone in the hallway waiting for the Spanish bastard to get some clothes on, I pondered my own attire. It was the same as I had worn the day before, and since I had slept in it the fabric had gotten slightly rumpled. Usually I sleep naked, but there was no way that was happening when that Spanish pervert was just down the hall. No way I could call myself a respectable Italian and go out like this.

The door opened and there stood Antonio in the doorway, smiling serenely down at me. His eyes were half-cast, and I could tell he wasn't thinking anything innocent.

I glared up at him. "Hey bastard, do you have any clothes?" He raised an eyebrow. "W-What? You don't expect me to go out looking like this, do you?"

He grinned and reached a hand out to tousle my hair and I growled at him. "I believe my clothes may be a bit big for you, but I'll see what I can find, niño~"

"N-Niño? Stop calling me that, bastard!" I spluttered indignantly, face turning red as he turned back from whence he came and started shuffling through his bureau. God I hated how easily my face turned that embarrassing shade. And around this idiot, too, it seemed to only be worse. How easily he made me blush just got me angrier.

"I'll stop calling you that when you stop calling me a bastard~" Antonio cooed from his room, coming back and holding out a pile of clothes to me.

I snatched them from him and narrowed my eyes at his shit-eating grin. "Never gonna happen." And I shoved him to the side, stepped into his doorway, and slammed the door in his face so I could sufficiently get dressed without fear of his creepy ass staring at me.

He was right about the clothes being a bit too big. I reached the fifth notch on the belt for the plain brown slacks he had given me, and I glared at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall when I saw the white shirt I was wearing hanging slightly off my shoulders, and the end of it past my hips. I pulled my dark brown leather boots back on, stuffing the bottoms of the pants into them, and threw the door back open. Antonio was there leaning against the wall. He glanced over at me and his eyebrows rose slightly when he saw me.

"Are we ready to go?" He wasn't smiling, but the ghost of an amused smile flitted across his features. I narrowed my eyes at him; he was obviously trying not to piss me off, but largely failing.

"Yeah whatever," I growled, shoving past him and down the hall.

"Aw, why so glum niño?" Antonio teased, catching up with me.

I clenched my hands at my sides, rushing down the staircase. "I told you not to call me that, bastard," I said irritably. I reached out to open the front door and Antonio stopped me.

"Ah-ah~" he grinned, opening the door and gesturing me forwards before him. "Beautiful Italians first~"

My face flamed crimson and I stomped out of his damned house. Not because he told me to, of course, but because I was going to do that anyway! "Who the fuck taught you manners, some perverted Englishman?" I glared back at him before he hopped down the steps to my side, his former grin being replaced with a pout.

"That's insulting, Lovi."

I scoffed. "I told you not to call me that, dammit."

The bastard merely smiled, his whole face implying perverse things. "You tell me not to call you a lot of things, Lovi."

I shoved him and he barely stumbled. I acted like that didn't faze me but_ fuck_ either he had a really low center of gravity or I was just a weakling. The thought made me even angrier. "This conversation is over," I said simply, continuing down the midmorning cobblestoned road in the Spanish Quarter.

"Oh Lovi~! Do you know where the station is~?" I didn't even have to look back at him. I could hear the smugness in his voice.

"Of course." I had to allow myself a smirk of triumph; I had sounded really convincing. Of course I didn't know where the station was.

"Really?"

"Yeah, j-just shut up!"

"But we're going the wrong way."

0o0

I crossed my arms over my chest after plopping unceremoniously into the cabin seat. Why had I lied? I must have known Antonio would find out I didn't know where the hell I was going sooner or later…

Antonio sat next to me after closing the cabin door, grinning widely. "That was so cute~"

I glared at him. "What the fuck are you talking about- sit over there!" I shoved him over to the opposite seat in the cabin. It annoyed me that he would decide to sit so close when there was all this damn room. Bastard.

Antonio leaned his head on his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. "Pretending you knew where the station was. So cute~" I scoffed in response, rolling my eyes as I stared out the window.

"Shut the hell up, bastard." He laughed and my face grew red, though this time from anger.

I turned sharply towards him. "Do you think everything is a _joke_?" I hissed.

He blinked, the large smile previously gracing his handsome features gone, replaced by a small, hesitant smile, as if he couldn't read if the atmosphere was right for teasing me or not. I wouldn't doubt it. "Um…largely, si," he responded, flashing me a smile as if to shrug and say 'what're you gonna do?' This infuriated me.

I rose from my bench. "Well it's _not!_ Not everything is some big fucking_ joke_ that you can just keep smiling and laughing at!" I yelled, and the smile slowly but surely faded from his face. In my rage I didn't notice. "My brother and I are on the Provenzano's hit list and he's _missing_! He's not fucking _safe_, don't you get that? Of course not! All you do is go on _laughing _like a fucking _idiot! _Well fuck you!"

"Lovino, calm down," Antonio murmured.

"I will _not_! Fuck you!" I screamed. I resisted the hot tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. Just thinking about my stupid little brother all alone in some big city-when we had a hit out on us too! Oh Dio…

It was too much. I reached into my boot, fumbling for a grip on the damn thing. Where was it, where was it-there!

"Lovino," Antonio said quietly, standing very slowly when he saw I had my gun trained on him. "Put the gun back."

I shook my head wildly, my hands shaking. I knew it was stupid, taking my eyes off of him, but we were in such close range…it wouldn't matter much if he tried to move.

I let out a hiccupping sob. Christ, when had I started crying? I cursed my weak body. "N-No," I said, swallowing back another sob. I tried to even my breathing, getting the sobs back under control. I couldn't just be a crying wreck like this. "Fuck you."

"Lovino-" He started to bring one of his hands towards me and I stood more resolutely.

"I swear to _God_ I will fucking shoot your ass, Tonio!"

I sniffed, letting out a breath. The crying had subsided, thank God.

"You're not going to shoot me." Antonio was staring me dead in the eye, and there was no smile on his face. No smile at all anymore, not even a small trace or whisper. His green eyes looked dark. "You would have done it already."

"Don't tell me what I'm going to do!" I yelled, gripping the gun tighter in my hands. The cold metal was slowly becoming warmer in my hands. "I'm fucking sick of you…"

"Then shoot me." My eyes grew slightly wide at the offer. "Do it, Lovino. Shoot me." He stepped forward and put his hands on top of mine, bringing the chamber of the gun up to his chest. His voice was so low and dangerous, nothing like the happy-go-lucky idiot I knew. It was the serpent standing before me, not Antonio. "Let's see if you're like your grandfather, si?"

I don't even know if he really said that or if it was my imagination, but I gasped and the gun fell from my hands. God, was that all I was? I left Italy to escape becoming like him, and here I was…

Antonio caught me before I fell, and we both landed sitting on his cabin bench, I in his lap, my face buried in his chest. Antonio rubbed a soothing hand up and down my back. He let out a laugh, though it wasn't his usual. It was more like he was trying to reassure me that everything was ok, that he didn't really mind getting a gun pointed at him. "Ay dios mio Lovinito! For a second there I thought you were really going to shoot me! Ha ha!"

"I'm sorry…" I muttered, hoping he couldn't tell I was crying. Fuck, why was I crying again?

Antonio put his chin on top of my head, now rubbing soothing circles into my back to calm me down. He chuckled, a noise that came deep from his chest and vibrated my nose. "No, I should be sorry. I try to not make you worry so much Lovi, that's why I joke. Lo siento. I know you're worried about your brother."

"Hmph," I grunted. I was still hiding my face in his chest, and I had a little time to reflect on where I'd heard of Chicago before.

_It was another average morning at The Silk Lady, and I had emerged from my room to the usual sight of Francis, Elizaveta, and Bella._

"_Ah, bon matin Lovino~! Would you like some breakfast?"_

"_I'm fine," I grumbled, sitting at the bar a few seats away from Bella and Elizaveta, who were chatting away like they hadn't spoken in years. Most mornings they would come sit next to me. It was always that way; I never sat next to them, because that would imply that I liked them. They always came to sit by me, but today was not the case. They just kept talking. "Hey," I said finally. "What the hell is so fucking interesting?"_

_Bella turned to face me first, hopping over the seats separating us to sit beside me. Her eyes shined with excitement. "The World's Fair, Lovino!"_

_I raised an eyebrow. "What?"_

_Elizaveta got up and sat at my other side. "The World's Columbian Exposition is coming up soon. It was in Paris last year." She smiled wistfully, possibly recalling past days. "This year it's being held here."_

"_Here? Who the hell would want something like that _here_?"_

_Bella giggled. "No, not _here!_ America. It's in Chicago this year. Isn't that exciting?"_

Exciting indeed. My heart jumped. "Hey bastard…"

"Mm?" Antonio was still rubbing my back soothingly.

"…do you know anything about the World's Fair?"

"Huh? Oh yes, it's supposed to be held here this year, isn't it? I don't keep up much with these things. Why?"

"No reason," I answered bleakly. We sat in silence for awhile, save for Antonio still rubbing my back, humming quietly as the train thrummed along the track. Antonio chuckled. "What?" I said irritably.

"Nothing," he said, then chuckled again. I growled. "You called me Tonio."

"…Don't you dare try to kiss me."

"Of course not, Lovi." I could hear that infuriating grin in his voice. "Though it looks like I'm not the only one with pet names."

"Shut up Tonio."

**Ah yes, on the way to Chicago, the Windy City! In a place with an even larger mafia underworld during the chaos of the World's Fair, what could possibly go wrong? Until next chapter, au bientot! …Reviews?**

**Buenos dias – good morning (Spanish)**

**Niño – kid (Spanish)**

**Ay dios mio – Oh my god (Spanish)**

**Lo siento – I'm sorry (Spanish)**

**Bon matin – good morning (French)**


	8. Chapter 8

**I edited this chapter a little…instead of only just being in Chicago for a few hours, Roma and Spain have been there for a few days looking for Feli. I did this because of reasons (i.e., b4ndg33k, thaaaank you for pointing out that little weirdness)**

**I don't own Hetalia, as I've said time and again.**

"Vamos, Lovino! We have to hurry!"

"Shut the hell up and run, bastard!"

0o0

Feliciano sat at the window of the small apartment, staring out at the city below. He sighed and the buildings and people disappeared with his cloud of breath.

"What's wrong?" Ludwig, from across the room. He was sitting on the couch reading a book when he heard the disconcerting noise from the young Italian.

"I just…" Feliciano hesitated. "Fratello mio. I wonder if he's alright." He was wondering a lot more than that. He was also wondering if it had been such a good idea to spontaneously run away with Ludwig, to leave his brother behind in New Orleans without even telling him where he was, without so much as a goodbye. But saying all those things would only worry Ludwig, and that was something Feliciano didn't want to do at all. Because though he was having all of these bothersome thoughts and doubts on what was right, he still loved Ludwig unconditionally and didn't want to make him feel guilty.

Ludwig turned the page of his book. "I'm sure he is fine, Feliciano. Didn't you say Antonio was watching him?" Feliciano nodded almost imperceptivally, still staring out at the windy city. Yes, Antonio was supposed to be watching him…a man both of them barely knew. Well, Feli didn't know him, but the way his brother acted around him, Lovino seemed to know him better. That eased some of Feliciano's anxiety. "Well…I don't know Antonio very well, but I am sure that he won't let anything happen to your bruder."

0o0

We were running.

I don't know how it ended up happening; we had gotten off the train and been walking around for a few days now, asking around for Feliciano's whereabouts. Each night we'd stay with people that Antonio assured me were 'completely safe' and 'harmless, really'. I was suspicious of course (especially whenever the bastard tried to coax me into sleeping in the same bed as him. Che, like I'd let that creep anywhere near my sleeping body); when you're raised in a mafia family that's really all you can be towards those you don't know, but so far we had been fine.

Today began another perfectly fine and unassaulted day of looking for Feli when a bullet whizzed past my ear. Luckily it had embedded itself into a nearby brick building so we didn't have to deal with causing a major scene with civilian casualties, but it was still terrifying. I hadn't seen it, obviously, but I knew it was a bullet. I'd been shot at plenty of times, and one doesn't just forget the sound of the air being cut in half right by one's head so easily. No, that's a sound that sticks with you.

I had frozen where I stood, as if I had been hit by it. When Antonio, who had been babbling about something stupid walking a few steps ahead, turned to look at me his face suddenly went deadly serious. I must have been paper white because he was at my side in an instant. "Lovi? Lovino, are you ok?"

I had gotten used to living safely. I hadn't been anywhere near a serious mafia lifestyle in months, maybe half a year. And now I was being shot at.

"There…there was a…" I couldn't collect my thoughts; all I could think is why would anyone be shooting at me? I wasn't important. And then I remembered that to some people, I was a valuable piece of property. Fuck. "…someone shot at me." It came out as a small whisper, as if I was still shocked over it. And dammit, I knew I shouldn't be. I mentally kicked myself for sounding so weak. It wasn't as if I hadn't gotten shot at before.

Insurmountable fury flashed across Antonio's face for half a second and then was replaced with that same deadly calm from before. He glanced around for awhile, as if trying to find who had shot at me. Then he tugged me by my arm, dragging me down the street after him. We were walking at a brisk pace now. "Don't look behind you Lovi. Just keep walking, ok? Don't look around. Just don't…"

I was dizzy, but my feet had no choice but to follow the bastard what with his insane strength tugging me along. Though I followed along, I struggled to find some sense of normalcy, some sense of balance. When had I ever blindly followed what this asshole said to do?

"What are you talking about bastard? I-I…what the hell are you talking about? What's going on?" I chanced a glance behind me. Like hell I would let the bastard just order me around.

A few yards behind us, distanced by crowds of people walking and going about their everyday lives, were two men. For some reason they looked out of place in this city scene, almost impatient and feral, and when they saw me look back at them they started running towards us.

So we ran too.

"Dammit!" Antonio cursed, pulling me along with him.

"Who the fuck-Antonio! What the hell is going on?" I yelled.

"Just run, Lovino!" Antonio yelled back, a furious, desperate look in his green eyes when he glanced back at me. I didn't question him this time. After all, I was alive from following him so far, wasn't I?

So we ran.

Eventually even powerhouse Antonio was starting to get short of breath, and we ducked down an alley and hid in the shadows it provided. I held my breath though my lungs and legs were screaming for a break, just hoping those guys, whoever they were, would go away. I heard them start down the alley and cringed, subconsciously shrinking back closer to the wall, to Antonio.

I glanced up at him, hovering protectively. He looked genuinely frightened, and that was perhaps the most terrifying thing. What could possibly scare him so much…?

"Do you really think jefe went down this way?" One of them muttered to the other.

"He's not jefe anymore, remember?" the other hissed. What the fuck was going on? I wouldn't dare risk them hearing me, so I didn't ask Antonio. "Ugh, I can't tell with all this shit everywhere. It reeks."

"Lucky bastard." I recognized it as the other's voice. "Who do you suppose that was with him?"

"Not important. Unless of course he decides to get in the way of another one of my bullets again." There was a smirk in the bastard's voice, and I gritted my teeth. They were talking about me. But wait-I wasn't important? Then that meant…

"Well we may as well call off this hunt. We won't find him now." The voice was a little farther off; they were leaving.

"Hm. Si. At least we can report that he's back in the city."

I waited a significant amount of time after their footsteps had receded before I spoke. "What the fuck…who were those guys?" I peered around the corner of the alley. They were gone. I let out a breath of relief and immediately stepped away from Antonio, glaring at him and demanding answers. That is, until I saw his expression.

He looked uncharacteristically pale, and a little distressed. He was staring at me, but his eyes were unfocused, as if he was staring through me. "No…I shouldn't have…"

I started to feel slightly queasy at the sight. No, this wouldn't do. If Antonio didn't keep it together, what would I-I mean we, do? "Hey…stop it. Bastard, you're freaking me out a little," I laughed nervously, taking a small step towards him. "Antonio…?"

He shook his head slowly. "No…Lovi…lo siento."

I stopped. "What? What the hell are you saying sorry for? We still have to find my brother, come on—"

"I shouldn't have brought you here. I shouldn't have…"

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. The idiot was just overreacting after I'd almost gotten shot. "Look, I'm fine, okay? Come on, stop being stupid." His eyes slowly came back into focus, to focus on me this time. His mouth was set in a grim line and he took a step towards me, placing his hands on my shoulders, rooting me in place. I bristled. "H-Hey bastard, let go! We have shit to do!"

He continued to stare in that serious way at me and I trailed off. "Listen to me, Lovi. You are in very serious danger being here with me."

…What? Had I heard that right? I thought I was the one on the hit list here…I thought _he_ was in danger being with _me_…but then I remembered what those guys had said. I wasn't important.

I slowly reached up and placed my hands on Antonio's forearms. He tensed. "Antonio…who were those guys?"

He stared at me for a few more moments before he let me go and turned away, starting to walk back out onto the street. "Provenzanos."

"You're lying," I growled. Now I was really worried. What was he trying to keep from me? And such an obvious lie as well; he wasn't even trying…

And suddenly he whirled on me, a look of such utter insane, desperate fear that I froze where I stood. "You don't understand. You don't understand how _very far_ in over your head you are, and the less you know about _me_, and this city, and _them_," he said it with a voice of loathing, of disgust. "the safer you are. Don't ask questions." And then he turned back around and kept walking.

I was shocked. But for the most part, angry.

I stomped after him. "Hey look here, asshole! Don't forget that this whole mess is _your fault_ and—" Well that was a mistake to say.

Antonio whirled around and grabbed me by my shirt, slamming me into the rough red brick of a nearby building. Black dots danced in front of my vision.

He looked absolutely furious, his eyes blazing green flames. "Yes Lovino, I am aware. I _realize_ that I have caused all of this, ok? But I can't fix it if you don't _shut up and do what I say_, _si?" _ I blinked dizzily in response, too disoriented to get angry. And suddenly it was as if another switch had been flipped, because the bipolar bastard dropped me, pulling his hands away as if I was poison. He looked disgusted and horrified with himself. His green eyes were apologetic. "…Lo siento…" he murmured before continuing down the street.

I stood there and stared after him for awhile, thinking. Here there were no Provenzanos, for as far as I knew, so I was safe. But apparently Antonio wasn't, and what those guys had said confused me to no end…what did they need Antonio for in the first place? Not that I cared what happened to the bastard, but I needed him at least until I found my brother. And then there was Antonio…he seemed genuinely worried for once, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. It had something to do with those bastards who had shot at me. No, but they weren't aiming for _me_; the bullet had been for _Antonio_…

I started to think about how little I really knew about him. How could I trust him so easily? That was a subject I wasn't willing to dwell on for long. "Hey, bastard!" I ran to catch up with him.

The only thing I knew for certain about this Spaniard was his name and age. Hell, he could have lied about those too if he wanted…even his personality seemed to be conflicted, and as we continued to walk down the street I watched him from the corner of my eye. He looked brooding, like something was on his mind.

Never a good thing, since the dumbass rarely dusts off that muscle called a brain long enough to use it seriously. I wasn't willing to ask him another question that could possibly be related to what had just happened in the alley though.

"So, um…do you know where my brother is yet? I mean, we've been here for days and haven't come up with anything yet."

Antonio glanced at me. "I may…have an idea of where your hermano is now, Lovi." He didn't say anything else, and we kept walking. His vague answer ticked me off, but considering earlier events I decided not to push my luck.

As we walked along my curiosity about the mystery of Antonio grew. Adding in those guys who shot at me (though the bullet was intended for the bastard, I can't forget that) made things even foggier. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Antonio was in a gang…

It certainly would explain a lot. The way Antonio had acted when he got Feli and me out of police custody, his luxurious living status, that deadly look I saw in his eyes sometimes, and now these men…_hit_men…only someone really dangerous would have a hit out on them. Or a rat, or maybe he just fucked with the wrong people…

I stopped, staring at him. Antonio, a mafioso? The thought was starting to become more and more plausible…

"Lovi?"

I was jolted from my thoughts. Antonio had stopped walking and was staring back at me curiously. "Are you ok?"

I blinked. He was staring with such concern, and now that I think about it, he had been pretty shaken by those hitmen.

I glared back at him. "Yeah I'm fine, stop staring at me! Let's just go find my brother." Antonio smiled with relief, though the worry from before lurked just beneath the surface, I could tell.

"Ah…si of course Lovi." He grinned, but it seemed almost forced, and we continued onward. I shook my head, scrutinized the back of his head. A mafioso would never be so shaken by hitmen. He would never worry so obsessively with another human being's life unless he was after to end it. There was no way Antonio was in a gang, I decided.

**I'm so sorry! I was going to upload this yesterday, but alas, a travesty! The document manager was on the fritz, and fanfiction wouldn't let me upload! *shakes fist angrily at wizards* So, a day late, my chapter update. I hope you have enjoyed reading thus far, and perhaps, if you liked it enough, you would be so kind as to leave a review. *bows* I take every comment, no matter how small, or negative, and am happy. Today I looked at my story traffic and there's lots of you reading this! I got so happy I spewed rainbows~**

**Fratello mio – my brother (Italian)**

**Bruder – brother (German)**

**Jefe – boss (Spanish)**

**Lo siento – I'm sorry (Spanish)**

**Hermano – brother (Spanish)**


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